Tight Shorts, Big Appetite

July 30, 2012

As I recently did not mention, I took an extended break from my web-based opinionating in order to vacation in Wichita, Kansas. My travel agent

had made me an offer I could not refuse:  an all-inclusive, 2-week long stay at the Comfort Inn in Wichita, where I would be near the heart of the National Junior Olympics event. The weather was beyond balmy (we even set an all-time Wichita record on July 27 - 110 degrees F-ing-heit) and I was able to enjoy a few $5 martinis. I also made it to a local gym where I did some swimming to relieve my sore muscles and joints. The pool was cool, relaxing and enjoyable. I even started to get my flip turns back into barely functional form. While returning to my luxury suite after the workout, I was eyed curiously by some passing motorists. Perhaps it was due to my spandexciting shorts.

As I enjoyed a $5 martini, a man in spandex asked me if I needed a date. Yes, it seems that perhaps spandex is one of the fabrics of choice amongst male street-walkers in Wichita. That evening I got the munchies and met up with Michael Phelps' junior-Olympian younger brother Eugene as we fed multiple bills into the hotel snack machine. We discussed my experiences, and I was laughingly informed that strutting in spandex along the busy roads of Wichita was indeed an invitation to questionable interactions.

I often imagine people coming up to me and asking me what I eat in order to stay in my somewhat fit condition. Well, here is an example, recommended by my uncle, a BRAN-veteran.

Yes, garden produce has become quite plentiful here, and I am eating tomatoes on anything and everything. This noon I enjoyed an omelette with tomatoes, peppers and garlic along with more peanut butter and tomato sandwiches for breakfast. I am seriously considering participating in the BRAN ride next year. To that end, I may be considering the purchase of some type of road bike to make the journey a bit easier. Here are two of my current favorites that I am considering.

Jamis Aurora

Salsa Casseroll

Specialized Roubaix



Please let me know if you have one of these bikes that you would be willing to trade for one gently used 2000 Chevy Metro (only 126,000 miles on the odometer).

Give a hoot! It's the OwL Ride!

July 21, 2011

It has been nearly one week since I have experienced the heat/near excitement of the colorful OwL (Omaha with Lights) bicycle ride. Coincidentally, I am also currently enjoying a book entitled Owls aren't Wise and Bats aren't Blind by Warner Shedd, which I procured from my local library. The OwL ride was filled with brightly-lit bicycles and occasionally costumed bicyclists (I saw one guy with a Captain America mask/helmet combo that was as neat-o as he wanted to be). I ambled around during the pre-ride events, since my trusty bicycle compadre (con accento, por favor, mi capitan del America!) Rich had, in a move quite unlike an owl (i.e., wisely), chosen to socialize with friends at a birthday party rather than bicycle amongst an awkward throng on a muggy evening. How droll, my dear Richard, how exasperatingly droll. I, however, had already committed myself to the Owl's cause and was not in the mood for turning my neck about like an owl and retreating into the night in order to gnaw on an unlucky rabbit's foot. The owl motif was visible in many of the contestants vying for the best get-up award prior to the ride. There were also a lot of lights.

I think this guy won.

I did not feel out of place with my nearly blindingly bright NiteRider Head Trip, which was not necessarily as decorative as many of my fellow riders' luminaries, but (along with my air horn) did ensure that others were aware of my presence. Perhaps I was overcompensating for my lack of a light (which had earned me several stern rebukes) on a recent Taco Ride. I enjoyed a nice bite to eat (a raspberry 360 bar) at the Field Club stop, and made it back to my vehicle in time to consider going out, but instead headed back to my abode.

This was an enjoyable event that I recommend to one and all without reservation. I am also pleased to report that, as I made the ride on my gear-shifting bicycle (i.e., shifty), I had conducted an overhaul of my rear shifter prior to the ride. This adjustment allowed me to shift nearly as quietly as an owl glides towards your kittens when the pale moon shines down upon an awkward throng of sweaty bicyclists. Yes, the moon was full, and my eyes were full of tears of joy as the event concluded and we OwL riders flew off into the moonset.

Nebraska MS Bike Ride 2011

July 10, 2011

This weekend I was excited to partake in the Nebraska MS Bike Ride.

This enjoyable, well-organized event takes place every year, and this year went from Omaha to Lincoln on Day 1 and back to Omaha on Day 2 (shorter riding options also available).  I think about 300 riders participated this year.

Since I had recently pulled a back muscle lifting a tote full of my homemade ginger beer, I rode even more slowly than usual, and was soon tactfully ditched by my usual bicycling comrade, Rich.

Around lunch time I pulled my secret weapon from my saddle bag - a shot of a nutritional supplement called "Eight Ball." This little orange-flavored beauty contains 8333% of the US RDA of B-12 and some caffeine, and provided me with a feeling of invincibility and well-being that allowed me to continue happily along on my carefree journey. I also provided my father with erroneous directions as to the longest route available to us charity bicyclists - this was completely unintentional, but did allow me not to have to once again have my butt kicked by my dad in a non-competitive cycling event.

I rode with a very nice group of people from Lincoln for a time, when all of a sudden a playful slapping of a cyclist's rump by his buddy triggered a single rider crash. Thankfully the cyclist was uninjured.

This wasn't the first time I have witnessed horseplay leading to a bicycling accident. Just recently on a Thursday night taco ride I witnessed two young cyclists directing kung fu-type kicks and punches at one another until one of them kind of half-endoed over the bars and onto his shoulder off to the side of the path. I now feel entitled to pontificate upon the subject. When I become old and grumpier, I will probably start lecturing youngsters involved in these sorts of hi-jinks on the spot, so I may as well get some practice in now.
Although it is no longer bicycle safety month (May) or national safety month (June), it is National Ice Cream Month. So grab a bowl of ice cream and visualize yourself bicycling with an absence of horseplay and an abundance of safety. You may also eat an ice cream cone while bicycling safely, as long as you are focused more on safe cycling than the ice cream. You will also probably get sticky.

Since I was cycling solo through the majority of the first day of the ride, I was also able to enjoy some one on one interaction with area motorists. As a self-proclaimed bicycle diplomat to motorists, I am pleased to present a new section of my blog called "The Bicycle/Pickup-truck Round Table."

Bicycle/Pickup-truck Round Table
To: Driver of one of many red pickup-trucks (Nebraska's percentage of red pickup-trucks is 83.33% higher than the national average) on Highway 66 on the north edge of Ashland.
From: BikeSnot

You flipped me the bird. Sentiment noted.

To: Driver of a blue pickup hauling furniture southbound on Highway 77 between Ceresco and Lincoln, Nebraska license plate PET 328 or similar.
From: BikeSnot

You honked at me as I was riding on the highway shoulder just as you passed me. Your honking means that you are a silly, honking goose. Geese belong in Canada (e.g., America's drum major hat) this time of year. Please take note of your surroundings and re-join your fellow geese.

Please e-mail me any bicycle/pickup-truck thoughts you may have. Or just come over for some ginger beer and a heart to heart.

The receding water tower of Ceresco appeared in many forms during the ride. 

View of the receding water tower of Ceresco from the St. Mary and St. Patrick Cemetary (italics mine) on Agnew Road west of Ceresco.

I eventually pedaled into Lincoln, where I was pleased to see some public art with a bicycle theme. 

When I arrived at the finish, I was greeted by the phenomenal MS Ride volunteers.  I wasn't able to fully express the joy and gratitude I felt upon my arrival after about 10.5 hours of pedaling. 

I enjoyed the after-ride dinner and party and chit-chatted with my former partner Rich and my MS ride companeros (con tilda! you bastard!) Chris and Carol.  Fat Tire and Third Stone Brown beers were available in abundance.  I also met some members of the long-riding team known as the Chiefs and two lovely Chiefs who had finished the non-competetive century ride route in 1st and 2nd place (female division, the guys weren't so lovely).

Day 2 was a sweaty sufferfest with managable temperatures (highs around 93), but uncomfortable humidity (high around 90 percent) with little to no breeze.  I pedaled steadfastedly onwards until I encountered this water stop/oasis of cool tranquility.

I was revived by a cool water hosing and continued onwards towards the day 2 finish where I was rewarded by some food, comardarie and a beer.  I'm not sure about your world view, but from mine this was pretty darn good living!

Thanks to all who participated in this glorious event.

Next up on my organized cycling agenda is the 2nd annual Owl Ride.  Should be a hoot.

B-cycle vs Jamis Aurora

July 7, 2011

To evade the recently enacted Bronte-fest at the lovely Joslyn Castle, I was able to make my way to the new Midtown Crossing area of town.

I would probably have enjoyed a good kick to the trouser tribbles more than the Bronte-fest, so I felt very fortunate to be out and about on a pleasant summer's eve.

I was hopeful that I would encounter some of the B-cycles that are available for rental in select areas of town. Unfortunately, although I diligently ambled about in the MC for several minutes, I was unable to locate any of these fun machines.

I did see this cool Jamis Aurora.

A quick visit to their website revealed that the 2011 Jamis Elite also offers disk brakes. At a MSRP of $1700 I may pick up one or two of these bad boys the next time I can't find a b-cycle in my hour of need.
I just checked the b-cycle website, and I now realize that these stations are located further west (mostly around the University of Nebraska-Omanha area), but will hopefully migrate eastwards at some point.

Tonight the Dropkick Murphys are playing a show at Sokol Auditorium, which will presumably make for a rocking evening out. Now if only a b-cycle station were nearby for some after-the-show about-towning...
Although my hope for finding a b-cycle near the MC was apparently unfounded, I hope to have a chance to peruse one of these adventure-mobiles in the near future.

Sharrows home

July 5, 2011

Today as I bicycled from the Omaha airport to my office located at the top of Peaknuckle Plaza I was impressed by the number of occurrences I witnessed that were unusual to me. I first noticed a team of police divers in wetsuits (in various stages of undress) and their support personnel at the infamous Carter Lake



Carter Lake water levels haven't changed much, unlike the rest of the Omaha metro area.  Coincidence?  Mob influence?

 (updates available on your local 10:00 news). I then witnessed this understandably incensed citizen voicing his complaints to a camera crew near 39th and Farnam.

Based only on location, I am quite certain that his concerns pertained to liquor licenses in the vicinity of his home. The sharrows on Capitol and the bike lanes on Leavenworth were welcome sites for me, as I wended my way uncertainly westward.

The scattered rain kept me cool as I glided effortfully along busy streets, encountered potholes and was overtaken by stylish ladies on motor scooters. I did eventually make it back to my abode, where I noticed an exploded bottle of recently fermented ginger beer in my tote, with glass shards present approximately 3 feet from the tote. This brings to mind my favorite current TV show - Breaking Bad. There is an episode in season two in which Walt's brother-in-law (a DEA agent) fears for his life and the security of his family as bottles of beer explode in his garage, sounding very similar to gunshots.

I believe that the shots fired into the unfortunate person presumably anchored to the bottom of Carter Lake, and the hypothetical shots about to be fired at 39th and Farnam (if the diabolical liquor license is issued) are two different realities. God rest the souls of the real and unreal. Peace of mind to the worried and afflicted.

Note to Blockbuster- sorry I lost Catfish. Please obtain season 3 of Breaking Bad at your earliest convenience.

Bike Tranquilly, you bastard!

July 2, 2011

Feeling like you need a nice, quiet place to get away from all the hustle and bustles of daily life? Feeling like you need to find someplace tranquil or else a heavy dose of a tranquilizer? Well, such a pastoral place can indeed be found. In fact, there are probably many such places along the lovely Wabash Trace Nature Trail. The beautiful lounging area pictured below is located just west of the trail in Malverne, Iowa.

Please note the water spigot, which was an especially welcome sight this past Thursday as the mercury was rising faster than the Missouri River.

My bicycle riding accomplice Rich and I reluctantly left our haven of happiness and started back towards the excitement of the Thursday night Taco Ride. We rode past the smelly, possibly leaking ammonia tanks of Silver City and ate at a very comfortable, uncrowded, tasty and reasonably-priced sub sandwich/ice cream joint.

After this additional foray in the realms of Tranquilicity, we got back up in the bustle of Senorita (con tilda! you bastard!) Taco Ride. After a brief discussion in which I woosily broached the topic of bypassing the melee so that I could get back home in time to get ineffectual beauty rest in order to perform my profession of task delegator with my usual haphazardnous, we stepped into the extravagant Mineola Steakhouse (with expanded boundaries for pre-4th of July revelry). Rich was immediately fascinated by the foam pit, whereas I scanned the foaminess and was quickly disappointed by a lack of scantily clad female partiers and/or wrestlers. In the outdoor seating area we encountered our friend and fearless leader of a team involved in the upcoming MS Bike Ride, Nebraska (July 9 & 10). We quickly caught up on bicycle-related events and a brief foray into personal details, at which the conversation meandered rapidly to talk of Missouri River flooding. I quickly lost my conversational footing as I was inundated with critical elevations, evacuation times, berm construction materials, and percentages of the Missouri River watershed represented at upstream dams. Eventually I alighted outside the steakhouse only to find Rich's front tire flat. I had also apparently lost track of time as I people-watched and was upended in the tumultuous current of Missouri River flood talk (be forewarned that it may engulf you too! [if it hasn't already]).

As I noted the decreasing sunlight, I increased my homeward pace accordingly. I didn't notice when the well-illuminated Rich blew out his new tire tube until it was fairly dark and I had left him several leagues behind. I was repeatedly either scolded, reprimanded, and or joked with about my total lack of illumination (Elijah Woods where are you when I need you! and Elijah, if you're reading this, I need you a lot). The most frequent exhortation I encountered was a loud, self-righteous, "Light!" hollered about 10 feet before our trajectories nearly intersected. Humbled by the outspoken critics of my lightlessness, I latched onto a friendly, well-illuminated pair of riders who helped me make my way back to the trailhead. I quickly realized that Rich was nowhere to be seen and took the comradely action of kicking back in my car and calling and texting him occasionally while listening to my latest Badly Drawn Boy recording which I had transferred to my MP-3 player (The Hour of Bewilderbeast ). Rich eventually showed up and I sheepishly apologized for my spastic hurrying in the face of potential tiredness. Reunited and it feels so good.

Oh, and if you haven't noticed the Tour de France has begun and a professional cyclist I'm unfamiliar with (Philippe Gilbert) was wearing the creativity-inspiring yellow jersey after Stage 1 in what may be eventually be known as his most glorious moment of professional life ever! While determining Philippe's name I noticed that Thor Hushovd is now wearing yellow, which is a coincidence since I am reading an enjoyable novel which may feature a character who is actually (spoiler alert) Thor. This novel is called American Gods by Neil Gaimen. Go Thor!